


Fucking Idiot

by SNQA



Category: Homeland
Genre: F/M, Happy Ending, Quinn/Astrid, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:20:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23777500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SNQA/pseuds/SNQA
Summary: Homeland alternate ending to 6.08.Astrid is smart. Very smart and doesn't trust Dar Adal as far as she can throw him. And Quinn is not a ghost. He's alive and not ready to die. He wants a life. He thinks Astrid can give him the life he needs. The one Carrie could never give him. He's given up on Carrie. But can Astrid be his his true love? Maybe. Find out!
Relationships: Peter Quinn/Astrid
Comments: 9
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

“Hey, don’t go! Please! I need you. I c...can’t do this by myself,” he pleads.

Quinn was desperate — his life on the line. Not his physical life. It was far too late for that, with only half of a working body and two-thirds of a functioning brain. No, he was fighting for a life. Not just eating, sleeping, and surviving. But something else. Something he’s never had before. He wasn’t even sure what it would look or feel like, but always knew it was something just out of his reach.

Not this time. This time he would fight harder.

And not on his own. He can’t do it on his own. He needs _her._

So he stood there, in that big house on the lake in the middle of nowhere, begging for Astrid’s forgiveness, because she was it — his only chance for life.

“You should have thought of that before,” Astrid huffs, turning away from him.

“I know, goddammit!” he barks back at her, his anger displaced.

She turns again, this time to face him, her cheeks reddening, her fists clenched. “Oh, you’re mad, huh? You’re going to come at me again?” she shouts. “Because this time, it will end differently, I promise you.”

Astrid drops her packed satchel down on the floor, rolling her shoulders back, preparing for battle. She is not one to run away from a fight. Quinn knows he’s messed with the wrong woman.

He moves towards her, adamant that he take his punishment and get what’s coming. Anything to get her to forgive him. He lifts his hand and points at his squared chin, turning his cheek to her, wanting to feel the pain of her anger. Knowing he deserves every bit of it. Hoping that the pain she will inflict will absolve him of the rest of his sins. Even though he’s paid that price before. Often. And in abundance.

He lightly braces himself for the possible impact. “No. No, I’m not. But you go ahead. I deserve it. Give me your b...best shot,” he stammers, standing his ground.

“For Christ’s sake, Peter. What do you think you’re doing?” Astrid’s voice a little softer as she shakes her head, her brow furrowing.

“Trying to convince you to give me another chance,” he implores.

“Well, you won’t. Not like this,” she growls.

Quinn watches as she glares at him, seeing a mixture of pain and anger and confusion in her big blue eyes. He steps back and breathes in deeply, his head tilting down to the ground in avoidance, shame and fear. It all washes over him as he comes to the realization that he may have just lost his only real friend.

Astrid has been the only person in his life that he’s been able to count on. How has that not been clear to him before? She risked her life and got him out of Islamabad. She risked her job for him in Berlin. She tried to help him after he was shot. She’s done everything he’s ever asked of her without a moment’s hesitation. She’s here now. When he needs her the most. When everyone else has let him down.

“So. What now?” he asks quietly, the sounds of the night air softly humming a peaceful melody in his ears, calming him in the moment.

“You tell me. Are you going to be able to do this? Live out here? Make a life for yourself?” She asks in a merciful voice, shrugging her shoulders.

_Only with you. I can’t do it on my own._

“In truth, I don’t know,” he admits woefully, his eyes fixed on hers.

“You going to try?”

He’s tried before — the “normal life” thing. Well, not really. Foster homes. Nefarious CIA men recruiting him into a so-called life of service. There was no chance for normalcy in those situations.

Julia and John? Maybe. Carrie? Definitely not. That was just a dream.

“Yeah,” he answers with somber confidence.

“You’re different than you were. You have to accept that,” she tells him gently.

“I keep hoping I’m not, but I know I am.”

Astrid sighs and nods — her face lighting up, angelic and beautiful. With strength and love.

“Can’t you stay?” he asks, his eyes and voice now pleading with her.

He trusted the wrong people all of his life. Or really, just didn’t trust the right one — her.

“I’m still here, aren’t I,” she smiles coyly. “Say something nice now, Peter. This is the time.” Her eyes stay on his, but there’s something different. Something he’s never quite seen in her, but yet his addled brain can’t seem to make it out.

“You’re my friend. You came to take care of me. I see that now,” he mutters, just buying time — desperately not wanting to say the wrong thing and fuck this up.

Astrid winces, “Friend?”

Quinn sways nervously as his mind begins to race with fleeting thoughts and feelings and words that he can’t seem to take control of. They pop into his head, and then just as quickly, they are gone.

“Yes.” He doubles down.

“Friend. You idiot.” She shakes her head gently, her lips curling up at the corners, her voice soft and controlled. “ Don’t you know anything?”

_Fuck me._

He looks into her eyes and like a thunderbolt, it finally hits him, clearing away the stroke-induced cobwebs that have filled his brain for so long now. Their entire past flashes before his eyes. The first time they met. The first time they fucked. All those years of her being there for him. Being with him. He’s never not wanted her. She’s beautiful. Smart. Strong. And she gets him. Knows exactly what makes him tick without him ever having told her about his past. His parents’ abandonment. His fucked up childhood. Dar’s abuse. The guilt he feels for every life he’s taken, whether or not they had it coming.

And Carrie. The pain he’s held with him for so long now. Her rejection of his love. Her betrayal. The coldhearted way she used him for her missions. Carrie. The woman he almost died for, more than once.

Astrid knew all of this and still loved him. Unconditionally. Passionately. Without judgment. Never abandoning him. Never giving up. Always there to pick up the pieces of his broken self.

He looks down momentarily, then his eyes flicker up, looking into hers intently — finally seeing all of it.

“I...I…,” he stutters, still not sure of what to say, but relieved that he can feel something other than fear and anger.

He instinctively moves closer to her and reaches out his hand to touch her, somewhere, but quickly retreats — his insecurity creeping back in.

Astrid was never one to show much emotion, but he swears he sees her eyes filling with just a hint of wetness.

“I’m so sorry. I..I didn’t know. Or maybe I did. Fuck, I am an idiot!”

“It’s okay, Peter. You’ve had other things; another person on your mind.” She looks away from him and through the windows, into the black night.

He never took Astrid as the jealous type. Maybe that was because he never thought she cared about who else he was fucking or who he may have loved.

_Your girlfriend called. Your girlfriend got him out._

And she really didn’t like Carrie.

_I’M SUCH A FUCKING IDIOT!_

Quinn inhales sharply then takes another step closer to her. She turns to face him again, her back straight and taut, her right brow raised. She braces herself for his next punch to land.

“No, it’s not...her. You...you are…She was…”

“You don’t have to say it, Peter. It’s never been like that with us,” she assures him, her voice flat.

“But...maybe it can be,” he spits out, his typically stoic face coming alive. “You said I’m d..d...different now. We can be different. If you still want —”

“Peter...” She shakes her head softly, her eyelids lower to the ground.

“No, wait. Let me try to say this. I...I’ve been confused. Stubborn. An asshole.”

“All good points,” she huffs, her arms now folded in front of her.

“And selfish! Not because I didn’t...don’t care. B..b..but because I didn’t think anyone cared about me.”

“Peter —”

“Listen to me!” he interrupts, his tone frantic. “People have used me all of my life. That’s really all I’ve known. And I’m not trying to make an excuse for my fuck ups. I just.. I just want you to understand.”

Astrid’s body remains motionless, her face stoic, her eyes widened.

“I was chasing, not just the wrong guy, with the...h...h...hat.” He makes the motion for putting an imaginary hat on his head. “But...but... the wrong woman!”

Quinn exhales sharply, his heart beating wildly out of his chest as he looks to see if he can read Astrid’s face. Nope. Nothing there. Just a blank stare. Usually, Astrid has no problem speaking her mind. In fact, that’s one of his favorite things about her. But now, just silence.

He closes the distance between them; every second that goes by feels like an eternity.

But he can’t wait any longer. He has to know now.

“Will you...give me another chance,” he asks tenderly, sincerely. “ Not just to take care of me. Not out of pity. I don’t want that. Not from you. Not this time.”

“Well, good, because you won’t get that,” her voice stern, but her eyes soft. “Not from me.”

A smile crosses his lips and reaches his eyes. He takes her hand in his and squeezes it gently.

“You’re not just my friend. You’ve always been…so much more. I’m such a fucking idiot.”

To be continued....


	2. Chapter 2

He moves slowly towards her, his hand still holding hers, their eyes locked in a steady gaze. 

For the first time in a long time, a sense of peace washes over him as his face slowly moves closer to hers, his head tilting in preparation to achieve the best possible angle to make full contact with her lips.

_ A BRIGHT RED LIGHT! A LOUD POP! _

Quinn quickly dives onto Astrid, driving her down onto the hard wooden floor, covering her body with his. 

“Scheiße! Quinn, are you okay?... Quinn!” Astrid’s yell is muffled as she tries to turn her body towards his, but is unable to move — Quinn is still holding her down. 

“I’m alright. You okay? You sh...shot?” He shouts, a slight tremble in his voice. He carefully rolls off her, keeping his body and head down as close to the ground as possible. 

“I’m okay. I think.”

“Stay down,” he tells her as he tries to lift his head up slightly to get a view out the window.

_ Pop! Pop!  _

Two more bullets crash through the windows, shattering more glass and whizzing by Quinn’s ear. 

“Fuck!... Fuck!”

“I need to get my gun!” Astrid hollers.

Quinn sees Astrid’s mouth moving, but her words are obscured by the high-pitched ringing in his ears from the passing bullets. 

“What? Astrid, where are you going?” Astrid starts to crawl along the floor, away from him.

“Gun! I’m getting a gun!” She repeats, louder. 

This time he makes out what she is saying. Gun. She’s getting the gun. The gun that he took the bullets out of when he thought he couldn’t trust her. The one in her car. He can feel the bile rising up into his throat. He can’t let her go out there! 

No!!!... No…..no b...b….b...b…” he stammers, his entire body shaking. “You can’t g...g...g...go out...there!” he finally spits out. 

“Here! Under the couch. Help me get them!” 

She reaches underneath the red sofa and pulls out a large duffle bag. Keeping her head down, she unzips the bag and starts pulling out the weapons: three Glock 19s, one semi-automatic rifle, a night scope, a large flashlight and two body armor vests. 

“Fuck me. You came prepared,” Quinn sighs. He then breathes in deeply, feeling relieved, yet knowing this isn’t over. 

“You think I would trust Dar Adal with my life... and yours? No way. Put this on and grab a weapon.” Astrid slides a vest over to Quinn. He slips it on as Astrid does the same, each also grabbing a Glock. “I think there’s just one gunman out there,” Astrid relays, trying to catch her breath. “ I say we wait for him to get closer. He probably doesn’t think we’re armed, or he would have brought help.” 

“Fuck that. I’m going after him.” 

“Peter, no!” Astrid grabs onto his arm as Quinn tries to break free of her grip. “We need to work together!”

“Fine,” Quinn acquiesces. “Slide me the scope.” Astrid does as he asks and pushes the scope in his direction. He makes his way slowly towards the windows where all three shots had entered the house. 

The night is still, almost too still. Quinn knows that fucker is out there, waiting for them to make a mistake. He crawls under the window and positions the scope at the corner, with just enough room so he can see out, but the shooter can’t see him. He scans the area. There are so many fucking trees — this guy could be anywhere out there. 

Then he sees something. A slight movement behind a large tree trunk, close to the dirt road. 

“I got him.”

“Can you make the shot? From there?” 

“No. I don’t think so. I need a better position. I need to get over there,” he motions his head towards the window further from him, where the bullets made a large opening. “I can get him from there. It doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere. We need a distraction. Astrid. The flashlight. Point it towards the porch windows.” 

“Got it.” Astrid grabs the flashlight and slides her body along the floor closer to the porch. “Ready?” she asks, her voice quiet and calm. 

“Ready. On the count of three. One...Two...Three!” 

Astrid turns on the flashlight, waving it madly, causing the gunman to take several shots through the porch window. Quinn immediately pulls himself up to a standing position, aligning himself with the blown-out glass of the window, takes quick aim and squeezes the trigger, firing off 10 rounds, six of them hitting his target and taking him down. The first one hits the gunman’s hand, causing him to drop his weapon, the second, in his leg, and then two in his chest, and the last two going right in his head. 

“He’s down! He’s down! I got him.” Quinn inhales sharply, “I got him.” 

“You sure?”

“I can see his brains splattered all over the tree trunk from here. But I better go out there and make sure.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“Ah...Okay. Grab the...r...r...r...rifle. We need to be extra fucking careful.”

————————————

The guy was dead. Very dead. But Quinn could still ID him. It was him. The man who was watching him at Carrie’s house. The man in the hat. The same guy who most likely put the bomb in the van that blew up the kid. And all of this is somehow connected to Dar. 

“Motherfucker!” Quinn growls as he and Astrid return inside the cabin after doing a thorough search in the surrounding area for other assailants. “We need to get the fuck out of here. Now.”

“Yeah. You’re right. I’ll pack up the weapons and grab some supplies. You go upstairs and get your clothes, medicine,... your papers.”

“I can’t use those papers, now. Dar will be able to track us. He’s the only one who knew where we were.”

“Of course Dar is a part of this...whatever it is. But he didn’t get you those papers,  _ I _ did! He doesn’t know anything about them or your new identity. You will finally be free of him, Peter. This is it. Your chance to finally get out. For good.”

Quinn looked at Astrid, her eyes filled with compassion — she understood. With everything that Dar had put Quinn through, this still hurt. First Carrie. Now Dar. The people who said they cared about him. All lies. All manipulations. He didn’t want it to hurt, but it did. It does. 

Quinn shook his head gently and got up to gather his stuff. Everything fit inside the large duffle that Astrid had left in the bedroom closet for him. There was nothing there from his past. No pictures of his son or Julia. No mementos of his life before. He will exist as David Exley from now on. 

Astrid was waiting for him in the living room when he came down. Her statuesque body leaning up against the couch as she watched him come down the stairs. 

“You got everything?”

“Yeah.”

“The car is packed. I changed the plates already. No one will be able to trace us. You need to leave your phone here.”

“Yeah. I know. I just have to do one last thing. Make one last call.”

Astrid nods, knowingly. “Okay. I’ll be in the car waiting for you. Don’t be long.” 

He waits for Astrid to walk out before he picks up his phone. It rings. She answers right away. 

“Carrie, it’s Quinn…. You need to listen to me very carefully…. Just shut up and listen! Write this address down. 5 Lake Drive. Upper Chateaugay, New York….The man who was watching us. He’s the one who put the b...b...bomb in the van that blew up the kid. He’s here. He’s dead…Carrie! Dar’s is in on it. He tried to have me and Astrid killed. Do you hear me?!... Tell Saul and watch your back. This is got to be much bigger than we thought….Carrie, listen! I gotta go….No, no I can’t. I need to disappear. For good. I won’t see you again…. It’s better you don’t know….” Quinn inhales sharply, his jaw clenching as he paces a short lap around the room. “One more thing. I know what happened in Berlin. I know — you woke me up from my coma and caused the stroke,” he confesses, his voice anguished and trembling. “….Carrie...Carrie!... Yeah, right. The mission. That’s what it’s always about with you, isn’t it?” he sighs with somber resignation. “….Well, let this be  _ your _ last one, too…. It’s okay, now, Carrie,” his voice softer now, his eyes moist “... You gotta let me go…. Be careful... Take care of yourself, Carrie. And Franny…. Bye.”

Quinn shuts the phone off, removes the sim and leaves it on the dining room table. He picks up his bag and walks out of the house and into the dark, moonless night. 

She’s there. Where she said she’d be. She’s waiting for him. 

—————————

They drive in silence for the first thirty minutes, Quinn not even knowing where Astrid is taking them, but assumes they are heading to the border. 

_ And it’s not just the mission. It never has been.  _

Her words. Over and over in his head. Not stopping. It’s not that he didn’t believe her. He knows she cares. But the mission was number one in her life. Before everything and everyone. Even her daughter. Even herself. It will probably kill her. One day. 

_ But not me. It’s not going to kill me. I’m done. I’m out.  _

“You okay?” Astrid asks quietly, breaking the silence, keeping her eyes fixed on the road ahead of them. 

“Yeah,” he gives her a faint smile. 

“We should be there in about half an hour. We shouldn’t have a problem crossing. I’ve taken care of everything.”

His mind goes to her now and what could have happened. It would have been his fault for not trusting her. She could have died. They both could have. 

_ SHE saved me. Again. Fucking beautiful German spy woman. _

Quinn closes his eyes and lays his head back on the seat, feeling safe now, with Astrid at the wheel.

———————

  
  
  


It’s about 12:30 am when they pull up to the little cottage outside of Cornwall, Ontario. There’s no lake around, but they are surrounded by plenty of trees. The house itself is a small, ranch-style home, which will make it a little easier without dealing with all of those stairs in the New York house. 

“This is just temporary. Maybe a few days until we figure out where we go next,” Astrid says as they both stare at the house through the front windshield of the car. “Ready?” she asks, looking over at Quinn with a reassuring smile. 

“Ready,” he replies, as he opens the door to the car and grabs his duffle. 

The house is fully furnished and clean, with traditional decor, a large kitchen, a master suite, and a guest room. 

Quinn places his bag on the oversized sofa in the middle of the room. “You can take the larger bedroom, if you want, or….” 

“Or what,” she hums, as she walks past him and into the master bedroom. He follows her to the room and stands in the door frame, watching her. “Looks big enough for both of us, if you ask me. But if you start snoring, I’m kicking you out,” she deadpans, then gives Quinn half a grin, before plopping down on the edge of the firm mattress. 

He moves cautiously towards the bed before slowly sitting down next to her. 

Astrid lies back and Quinn follows suit — both staring up at the dull, white, popcorn ceiling.

_ We fucked each other because we were lonely. That doesn’t make us friends. _

Quinn squeezes his eyes shut, trying to make those hurtful words disappear out of his head. 

“Astrid, I...I could have gotten you killed. I took the bullets out of the gun in your car,” he confesses, as he turns to face her. “My mind was just...tricking me. I don’t even know how I did what I did to you. And the things I said to you —”

“Peter, just stop,” she whispers, her hand reaching to touch his cheek, her fingertips grazing his wounded lips. “You’ve been through so much...pain.” 

“If something would have happened to you…Jesus fucking Christ, Astrid,” he shudders. 

Astrid moves closer to him, slowly, until her lips finally reach his, her hand now behind his head, pulling him in closer. Their lips touch, softly at first. Quinn feels his entire body awakening as he parts her lips, tasting her, so sweet, then pulling her in closer, hungrily claiming her mouth, urgent and desperate, needing to go deeper, be closer, their bodies embracing, their tongues mingling, the pain shooting from his cut lip adding to his arousal. 

Astrid pulls back, breaking the kiss, her arms expeditiously moving downward, reaching his pants, unbuttoning and unzipping them, and pulling them down in one swift motion. Quinn struggles to take them off the rest of the way, while Astrid pulls off her own sweater, her hair coming loose, her beautiful, golden curls falling softly around her face. She helps him with his shirt and then removes the rest of her clothes.

They come back together, lying on their sides, both trying to catch their breath. Quinn takes a moment to just to drink her in. She’s so fucking beautiful; his own goddess. He reaches his hand out to her cheek, then traces the curves of her jawline, moving downward, slowly, to her firm, full breast. He watches her eyes close as his thumb begins to brush lightly around her nipple. Inhaling sharply, her hands move quickly to his ass, pulling his body closer to hers, then sliding one hand around his waist to the base of his hard shaft. Quinn lets out a hoarse moan as Astrid begins to move her hand up and down, again and again, faster and faster. He pulls her body even closer and moves his hand between her legs and finds her warm, wet center. 

“I... want you,” he rasps, turning her on her back and straddling her. 

He grips both of her hands with just his one, securely holding them above her head. He stills, hovering above her, fervently studying her face and body — taking it all in like she’s being revealed to him for the first time, even though every part of her has already been etched in his brain for years. Not even the stroke could take that away. All this time and he still burns for her. Still wants her. His mind wanders for a second; but does she still want him? This broken body of his, his broken mind.  _ Why would she? _

“Peter, please,” she breathes, her eyes gazing into his, dark with desire as she arches her back just slightly, exposing her long, sensuous neck, bringing him back into the present and erasing any doubts of her passion for him. He uses his good leg to spread her wider, his mouth now reaching down to her nipple, sucking, lightly at first and then a little harder. She moans loudly, as he releases her hands and plunges himself deep inside her with a feral grunt. She screams out, something in German that he can’t understand, then he starts pumping, feeling her warm and tight and wet around him. 

He relinquishes her breast and returns his lips to hers, as they kiss, messy and hot, his breathing, heavy, and in unison with hers. His body already feels like it’s going to explode as he pumps harder and faster into her. Her hands press into his tight ass, nails digging in, pushing him in deeper so that he can feel the tip of his cock hitting her sensitive spot — over and over as he goes faster and faster. 

He lifts his upper body just a bit, achieving a slightly better angle, allowing him to push in even deeper, feeling her start to clench harder around him.

“Ja!  Oh mein Gott, Peter, ja, ja, fester, ja! ” Her moans get louder and faster, no longer full words, just the primal sounds of her coming apart.

It’s only a few pumps after her release that he unloads into her, his body thrusting one last time before collapsing gently on top of her — his world darkening for a second. The only sound he hears is his own breath, the only sensation he feels is her heart pumping against his chest in unison with his own. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Astrid,” he whispers, then kisses her softly on her cheek, then down her neck.

“Ouch!” Astrid hisses, giving him a hard push off of her; Quinn rolling off onto his side.

“What the fuck?!”

“My stomach!” She snaps, her teeth clenching as she points to her injury.

“Fuck,” he laments, his hand grasping at the long tuft of hair on his forehead before pushing it back.

“I’m okay, now. It’s just still sore,” her voice softer now. 

“Fuck, Astrid. I’m so s...s….sorry. I...I can’t believe I …” Quinn lies down on his back, facing the ceiling, his jaw twitching wildly. 

Astrid turns to face him, smiling, her elbow underneath her head. “Really, Peter. I’m fine. It’s just a little bruised. I mean, I can tell you definitely need to start working out again,” she deadpans, then reaches over to lightly stroke his arm with the tips of her fingers. 

He turns to her, his face contorted, not at all reassured by her attempt to make light of the situation. “Let me see,” he asks sternly.

She nods gently, her brow furrowing as she rolls over onto her back, pointing to the area below her ribs where his punch had landed. 

He studies her body, carefully, thoroughly, like a surgeon deciding where to make his first cut. He slowly reaches out his hand, his fingertips tracing the bruise with a feather-like touch. She inhales slowly, her eyes closing as he continues his examination. 

“Am I hurting you,” he rasps, his fingers still sweetly gliding across her smooth skin. 

She shakes her head in response and utters out a faint, “No.”

He lowers his head and places a soft kiss on the pale, purplish-gray spot on her abdomen. Then another, his hand now heading slowly down her body, as she lets out a breathy sigh. 

“I’m so sorry,” he repeats, his fingers now lightly grazing her clit, as she begins to moan with pleasure, her hips lifting, squirming in response. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he keeps whispering, his voice husky and low, while his deft fingers work her a little harder, faster, keeping pace with the noises she’s making and her now surging hips. He dips two fingers inside her, still working her clit, as he turns to watch her face just in time to see her expression as she comes with a loud groan. 

He relinquishes his hand from her body and comes to rest his head against her shoulder, her chest still heaving as he snuggles closer to her, wrapping his arm around her chest. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Peter,” she laughs, sitting up and turning now to look at him.

She lifts his chin up with her hand. His eyes are moist with tears, his face pained. But he keeps the eye contact, as she gently wipes the tear that is slowly making its way down his cheek. 

“Peter,” she shakes her head, her lips curling up in a smile, “I’m okay. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. You made a mistake. It’s _ not _ your fault.” 

They hold each other in silence, Quinn’s head once again resting on her shoulder. His eyes close as he thinks of all the things he did wrong over the years to hurt her. And all of the times she’s forgiven him. Always forgiveness. Always love.

He doesn’t think he deserves her love, but he swears to himself he will never hurt her again. 

  
  


——————————————

The next thirty-six hours go by rather quickly. Quinn spends most of it sleeping, while Astrid takes care of the food shopping and cooking meals. They don’t talk much, which isn’t that different from how things used to work when they were together. He knows he’s going to have to make some big decisions in the coming days, which isn’t easy under the best of circumstances, but considering he still feels like he’s got a target on his back, makes it even harder. He also can’t seem to forgive himself for hurting Astrid. 

“Peter. Come quick. Listen to this…” Astrid turns up the volume on the television remote control, as Quinn hobbles from the kitchen into the living area. 

**_Female TV announcer:_ **

**_Breaking news just in to CNN. Authorities in the US federal government, including the FBI, are telling us that they have discovered and disrupted a plot to assassinate President-elect Elizabeth Keane while in New York City. She has been in the city for the past several weeks working with her transition team before being sworn in next month as the 45th President of the United States. According to our sources, these plans were discovered early and no actual attempt was made on the President-elect’s life. The President-elect is safe and is now in an undisclosed location._ **

**_We are also being told that there have been several arrests in connection to this plot, including a high-level CIA officer and at least one high-ranking US military personnel member. No names have been released nor any motive for this planned attack. Sadly, we do have one death to report related to this matter: An unnamed former US special forces member has been killed. We are told this is the same soldier who became known to the world in 2015 after a videotape was released by terrorists showing him being exposed to sarin gas in Berlin. Sources close to the investigation tell us that, quote, ‘his heroism was key in discovering the plot to assassinate Keane, and that without his help, the plan to kill President-elect Keane may have taken place.’_ **

**_We will bring you more information as soon as we have it._ **

**_In other news today —_ **

Astrid presses the mute button on the remote and places it down on the coffee table. “Jesus, Peter,” she looks over at Quinn who is still staring at the screen, his face stoic, “they think you’re dead.”

“Carrie. Carrie told them the body was mine. She let me go.” Quinn’s eyes fixed, his voice flat. 

_ It’s not just the mission. It never has been. _

Quinn slowly walks out the front door, onto the porch, and sits down on the large swing. He knows she won’t follow him out there. Astrid knows him well enough to know when he needs to be on his own. 

He stares off into the distance, watching the sky changing colors from light gray to dark gray, to black, as the sun drops down, then disappears behind the large trees. The eerie silence of the cold and musty night air seems to coincide with the emptiness that fills his soul at the moment. His mind blank — he can’t seem to process what he’s just learned in the last thirty minutes. He can only focus on the sudden chill he’s feeling, as he watches the steam leave his mouth with every exhale, and dissipate in the darkness.

_ She did this. She let me go. Now I need to let her go.  _

Peter jumps at the sound of the front door opening, as Astrid walks out slowly, carrying a blanket, and a glass of whiskey. “I thought you might be getting cold out here. Christ! It’s freezing! Here.” She hands him the glass and gently places the blanket over his shoulders. 

“Thanks,” he mutters, his voice shaky from the cold. 

“Do you want some company? I can try to warm you up a bit out here.” 

He looks up at her, then hesitates for what seems like an eternity, before motioning for her to sit next to him on the swing. 

“You sure? If you’d rather be alone, Peter, it’s okay, really,” she assures him. 

“No, I...I... want you here. Please,” he says, his eyes meeting hers as he gives her a half-smile. 

They sit in silence as Quinn sips his drink, slowly swinging back and forth, while Astrid’s head rests on his broad shoulder. The heat from her body slowly warms him up from the outside, while the whiskey does the same for his insides. 

They make love that night. It’s slow and tender and loving, not urgent like the other night. He doesn’t tell her he loves her, and she doesn’t say it to him, either. But they both feel it. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my FMRF gals for helping with this work. Apparently, it takes a blog to write a fic.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to so many friends for their support. And for my reluctant husband for editing.


End file.
